


Summer Nights

by jesterlavorre



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Anxiety, Bugs & Insects, Gen, Panic Attacks, Spiders, along with the other bugs and insects there are specifically mentions of spiders, author hates summer with a passion, he's tryna sleep but his brain says no!, just the mention of them really but jic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 08:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19742158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesterlavorre/pseuds/jesterlavorre
Summary: Sleep does not come easy to Anatole Kuragin





	Summer Nights

**Author's Note:**

> author is just projecting at this point i wrote this at night while trying to sleep mostly to avoid what i've described below lol. hope y'all enjoy

It didn’t happen every night. Anatole was sure of that, even as he racked his thoughts trying to remember the last night it hadn’t happened. His entire body felt exhausted, right down to his eyelids, which he was fighting to keep open. Anatole had said his goodnights, wished his sweet dreams, and now he was completely alone. Russian winters were feared for the cold they brought, but Russian summers left Anatole feeling trapped and sweating through his sheets. Despite the thinness of the fabric on top of him, Anatole still felt like it was baking him. However, whenever he tossed it off, it barely helped his overall temperature, and it made everything else much, much worse. 

Anatole was never one to learn from his past mistakes, though, and he kicked the sheet off, tangling it up in his legs before finally rolling out of its reach. Finally at a decent enough temperature, Anatole let his eyes slide closed. His body was covered in spiders, insects, crawling and he had to open his eyes right now-

No bugs. Nothing had changed. His skin still tingled, but with his eyes open in the darkness, he could see. Nothing was there. Until the moment when he closed his eyes again. Anatole fought with his tired body, keeping his eyes open against sleep. Between him and sleep was his brain, betraying him like it always did in the moments before it was supposed to shut down his body and drift off. Anatole slowly moved the sheet over his body once more, feeling it stick to his legs. How could such a thin sheet make the temperature rise so much? Why couldn’t it just be winter? Why did his brain have to do this to him? Anatole shifted, incapable of being comfortable or drifting off with the heat.

The sheet made it too hot to even think about sleeping. Any exposed skin, out from under the sheet, was attacked by crawling bugs or the phantom feeling of a hand, trapping his limbs and holding him down. Could a murderer get in here? How easy would it be to kill him? He was so tired he had to fight tooth and nail to keep his eyes open, he couldn’t fight someone off like this. Anatole wished someone else was here. Anatole wished he wasn’t so alone. Anatole wished he knew someone who understood. Anatole wished he could tell someone so they had the chance to understand. Anatole wished he could sleep. He was so, very tired.

**Author's Note:**

> there might be a sequel to this, also when i previewed this work i was alerted that it is 420 words, so,
> 
> nice


End file.
